


Guardian

by KingKotes



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Chase is human in this but still super cool, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Sort of at least, Violence, some sort of au idk man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9517844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingKotes/pseuds/KingKotes
Summary: Sentenced to death, Chase Young's only chance at escaping is to work for a wealthy family as a guard for their son, infamous for his illusive nature and the trail of dead bodyguards left in his wake. Playing babysitter shouldn't be too bad, if Chase were dealing with any other charge besides Jack Spicer.





	1. Judge and Jury

**Author's Note:**

> hey what's up everybody & welcome to "I don't know what this fic is about, so neither do you!"  
> honestly, i don't know. i don't know a thing my dudes this stuff just kinda writes itself, but consider this an apology for neglecting my other fics. i'll get to those soon, i swear
> 
> there's no plans for magic in this fic, so chase is human. why, you ask?  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The cold clink of iron on iron almost drowned out the high murmur of the crowd, loud even through the rows upon rows of wooden walls. Hands on his shoulders held him fast, just enough pressure to warn him not to run, but he wasn't a fool. He'd seen what happened to those who fought in the grip of the law, who tried to run once caught in the net. No, he already knew where he was going, and running would only make the trip more painful. 

He was guided away from the crowd outside, joyful in their oblivion, down a set of dim steps. The walls turned from wood and brick to dull gray stone, and once the door was shut behind him, the world outside ceased to exist. The hands guided him to a single chair facing high balconies, filled with the rich and members of the High Court, the jury to his execution. 

They stopped him in the middle of the room and the horde gathered in the balcony murmured among themselves. They had already decided his demise, and the trial was only a show meant to entertain. Hundreds of gazes, sharp as judgement, pinned him, but he held his head high, shoulders square. 

Chase Young stared up into the balcony, locking eyes with the first noble he laid eyes on, and he held the woman's gaze. She didn't falter, protected behind her high railings and the cuffs around his hands and ankles. 

A man in tacky yellow plaid took his place on a raised platform, all the better to look down his nose at Chase. “For the judgement of the High Court and it's surveying peoples, the law brings forth Chase Young, to be tried as his actions have so demanded.” The crowd fell silent, watching in their savage, baited breaths. Chase turned his gaze to the High Speaker. The Speaker continued without sparing him a glance. “The offender is on trial for numerous cases of attempted murder, assault, evasion of the law, murder of members of the nobility and murder of one member of the High Court.” Now the Speaker looked at him. “How does the offender plead?” 

Silence fell over the room, nobility practically leaning over the rail for his answer. 

“Guilty on all counts.” He said, voice clear. 

Several shocked gasps ran through the crowd, murmurs of disbelief and followed by irritated eye-rolls. 

The Speaker only drew his pen along the parchment in his hand. “As you so well know, those crimes committed shall be judged as one, but considering the punishment for murder of a High Court member is death, there is no sense in considering the rest of those listed.” He turned his smug eyes on Chase. “Isn't that right, Mr. Young?” 

Chase said nothing, only set his jaw and glared as the crowd began to cheer. The hands jerked him to the side. The Speaker's voice boomed, addressing the nobility, but Chase tuned him out and let his sharp footsteps drown him out. The hands led him to a long series of barred cells, slipped an iron collar around his neck, bound his hands, and left. The cell bars slammed shut and with it, any last lingering hope of escape. 

Already the cold of the cell was seeping through his clothes, the wails of other prisoners making him sigh in annoyance. He had accepted his fate, no matter how angry he was about it, why couldn't they? He figured not everyone could be as strong as him- that was how he got here, wasn't it? The weak people in his way, those who had questioned or otherwise bothered him and ended up unrecognizable by a group of their peers. He mulled his impending death and what it would be. The High Court member he'd killed was someone low in the ranks, but an insect was still an insect no matter what the other bugs thought of it. Depending on how well-liked the Court member was and how particularly bloodthirsty the High Court was feeling, he death could be anything from a visit to the guillotine to being starved. 

Light flooded the cell, lanterns hung from the ceiling, and Chase looked up at two members of nobility, members of the High Court no doubt. The woman, her hair red as flame and a pair of eyes like oak, took a step forward and gave a little curtsy. “Mr. Young,” she said, voice like silk. The man behind her watched Chase with poisonous sable eyes, as if his hands weren't chained to a link in the floor. 

Chase ignored the man in the favor of the woman. Her eyes shone with hesitant desperation. 

“What is it?” 

She straightened, the light from the lantern spilled over her face and turned her eyes to dried blood. “We've come to offer you a position to work for us.” 

“No.” Chase smiled, amused by the look of shock on her face. “My time is up. I will not sacrifice pride to be some noble's lapdog.” 

She shook her head. “Whatever ideas you have, it's not why we have come. The position we are here to offer is one of a sort of... _guardian angel_ , one could say.” 

Chase raised an eyebrow and she sighed, drawing her fur shawl tighter around her. “My son, Jack, is in need of a new bodyguard. Being the, uh, _special_ child that he is, we've always found it necessary to have someone around to look after him. However, his previous eight guards have met an untimely demise, and after an incident that happens recently we've realized we cannot leave his life in the hands of just any gun for hire. We thought that a man of your stature and ability might be able to possibly keep our little Jack out of trouble.” 

Chase could have laughed. “You want me to play babysitter for your irresponsible child?” he sneered. “I would rather accept death.” 

“It is not necessarily babysitting, you need only shadow him when he is out and about. As Marcus and I are high nobility, it is not unlikely someone would try to kidnap and ransom our son, especially with his naive nature. And upon accepting this job, you will be given a new title, a place of rest at our estate, and all your previous crimes with be pardoned.” 

He looked to the man, Marcus, who hadn't said a word. He wasn't pay attention, choosing rather to take interest in the bare wall. Chase looked back at the woman. “And if I chose to accept and escape in the night?” 

She gave a shrug. “Then that would be your choice. But would you really wish to leave the warm bed, high-class food and luxurious life to being a vagabond on the run once again?” 

“Who wouldn't wish to leave the life of a guard dog?” 

She laughed. “If that guard dog is smart enough to know where his food is, he would stay in the yard.” 

Chase narrowed his eyes, but she didn't falter. She held herself high, feet firm and shoulders square under her black silk and sparkling jewels. 

He wasn't sure which it was that made him accept: his admiration for her confidence, the fleeting promise of guaranteed escape, or the cramping in his shoulders, but as her word the cuffs were removed and Chase was left to get to his feet. 

She held out her hand, not for him to kiss, but to shake. “Viria Spicer, pleasure.” 

Chase took her hand, and she gestured to the man. “And my husband, Marcus.” Marcus only dipped his head and Chase said nothing. Viria turned on her heel, clicking out of the cell. “Come with me, the carriage is parked in the back. We'll get you cleaned up and outfitted before we introduce you to Jack.” 

Chase couldn't possibly explain the joy he got out of watching the faces of the guards contort in rage, and it was almost the better reason for accepting the job. 

“So, Viria, why is it that you can't seem to keep a guard?” 

Viria sighed. “Honestly, I wish I knew. It's as if Jack just goes looking for trouble.” 

“I would rather he go looking for trouble than looking for ways to disappoint.” Marcus said offhandedly, and Viria snapped her eyes to him. 

“ _Marcus_ ,” she hissed, as if he'd let spill a family secret. 

Marcus gave Chase a dull look, the first of the encounter. “Don't let Viria fool you, he's a strange kid.” 

“He is our son.” Viria said, in a tone that suggested this was the end of the conversation. Marcus looked away, and Chase noted how she didn't deny his claim and rolled his eyes. 

Nobles were so, so, dramatic. 

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^ 

The carriage back was mostly silent, Viria chatting with the tall guard on her right. Chase watched out the window as the carriage drew up to a set of white-painted gates, opening to a lavish estate painted white and red. Before he had a chance to fully take in the grounds he was whisked away, Viria arm through his and her steps quick and demanding. She led him upstairs to a simple but large room, pushed him inside and told him to wait before shutting the door. Chase let out a breath, practically his first since arriving, and brushed loose strands of hair out of his face. 

The window of his room overlooked a large garden, trellises with climbing roses and stone pathways lined with bright red and purple flowers. In the far corner, seeming isolated and lost in the shadow of a giant, drooping tree, sat a long black building, stretching off into a mess of trees. 

Chase barely had time to question it before the door banged open, Viria directing him to stand still as his measurements were taken by a small, sprightly girl. She wrote numbers on her arm in ink, asking him about his fabric and color preferences. Viria made a small noise of approval when he suggested gold and green, and the tailor shared a knowing look with when she left. 

“We'll see what we have around your size for now.” Viria said as she lingered half out of the room. “Melinda will have your proper attire finished by tomorrow, and your armor should be done in two. As of now, wash up. A servant will drop off your clothes shortly, and I will be back to get you once Jack returns home. Feel free to wander the grounds if you wish.” The door clicked shut behind her and Chase welcomed the quiet. 

He stood there a moment, watching himself in the large vanity mirror above the dresser. His hair was wild from the capture, his clothes dirtied and torn. He kicked off his shoes and went to run a bath. 

Chase stirred the water with his fingers as the tub filled, pearly white and standing on four carved dragons. His entire room seemed to be dragon themed, with scaled jaws on the bedposts, winding up the windowsill and across the door frames. Fumbling with a knot in his hair, he wondered about his new charge, whether this Jack might have his mother's straightforward demanding nature, or his father's more stoic, passive side. 

He tipped of few drops of lavender-scented oil into the water and let his head fall back to stare at the ceiling, a numb tiredness creeping over him. 

It had been a long, long day.


	2. New Charges

The spare clothes he had been brought were simple gray and black, silver buttons adding to the monotone affect. The pants were too long and the sleeves too short, but the drab coloring brightened his sunflowered eyes. The short, slippered shoes fit perfectly, quiet as he walked down the hall from his room. Gentle music echoed from somewhere deeper in the mansion, and the gentle chatter of the servants hushed as he passed by. They dipped their heads respectfully, stepping easily out of his way and avoiding his eyes. 

Chase's room was on the second floor, and the staircase rounding down to the ground floor was wrought black iron, a red carpet guiding his path to a grand foyer. 

The lower level of the house was dressed in much more inviting tones, golds and silvers accented by gentle splashes of purples and blacks. The house stunk of old money, even the servants wearing slim silver chokers and expensive white fabrics. The Spicers apparently had plenty of wealth to back up their High Court titles, and liked to show it. 

“Ser Chase,” A servant padded silently up to him and bowed. “Are you hungry?” 

“I'm fine, thank you.” 

She nodded. “Missus Spicer would like to see you in the garden, if you'll follow me.” She spun on her heel, hands clasped neatly behind her back, and lead him through the foyer and past the kitchen to an open door. The garden was the same one he'd seen from his window, Viria shaded from the sun under a purple laced umbrella. The servant stepped to the side and bowed again. “Ser Chase, Missus.” 

Viria turned with a smile. “Chase, hello.” She dismissed the servant with a nod and looked out over the trellis filled with blooming white roses. “Jack has returned, he's eating now, and you'll be introduced shortly.” She turned to look at him, her eyes lined with black and a purple the same shade as the dress she had changed into. Chase wondered for a moment how many different outfits she planned on wearing today. 

In the silence that followed Chase watched her furrow her brow. “Please be careful with my son. He means well, but he's a fool. Always running off on his own, refusing to attend parties or get involved in the family business.” She shook her head, reaching out to pluck a wilting petal from a flower. “He's a bright child, he just won't apply himself. Always talking about bringing the world together under one rule. You would think a child his age would have outgrown playing pretend.” 

“How old is he?” Chase asked, following her as she gliding along the stone path, removing imperfections from the roses as she went. 

“Nineteen.” 

“Nineteen?” Chase asked, surprised. “Nineteen is no child's age.” 

“He might as well be.” Viria snapped, then caught herself and shook her head. “He refused to be married off, leaving home when we tried to arrange one with a local family. Such a shame, Ashley was such a pretty young thing.” 

“He hasn't left home himself?” 

Viria turned to him. Sunlight pierced through the lace, spotting her cherry hair. “He has. Several times, actually. But Marcus- he won't let Jack leave until Jack has married or accepted the family business, and it seems my son has no plans for either.” 

Chase almost rolled his eyes. “You can't force him to do something he doesn't want.” 

“I only want what's best for my son.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I don't want him throwing his life away with those silly toys he's always messing around with.” 

Taking a deep breath, Chase just nodded. There was no arguing with nobles, there never was. Their minds were too cobwebbed with their own pretentious ideas of how the world should bend to their happiness. He only followed Viria as she strolled the garden and changed the subject to the various plants adorning the ground. Chase, bored out of his mind, responded with hums and vague sounds of agreement when necessary. 

When a servant finally came, the sun was beginning to set. She announced Jack's presence in the library, and Chase was so relieved he could have hugged her. Viria cut off about the different shades of blue in forget-me-not's and tightened her grip on the umbrella. She seemed tense as she led the way back to the looming, lighted house. 

The doors to the library were obvious; heavy oak doors meant to seal out noise. The double doors were cracked, however, and angry voices were leaking into the hallway. Viria shot Chase a worried, strained look before she let her heeled footsteps tap up to the door. The voices ceased as she opened the door and ushered Chase inside. 

The library was by far the most impressive thing Chase had seen thus far. Rows upon rows of bookshelves, reaching all the way to the high ceiling and lined with books in neat rows. Lush chairs and couched circled the center of the room, where books sat in stacked upon wooden tables. 

Seated at one of these chairs was Marcus, his jaw tight, and across from him an equally angry teen who could be none other than Jack Spicer. 

Viria cleared her throat and both turned to face them. “Jack,” She said, her voice gentle and light. “This is Mister Chase, he's going to be your new guard.” 

Jack was- _startling_ , to say the least. His hair was the brightest red Chase has ever laid eyes on, swept back in a carefully managed swoop. His eyes were the same color, lined with heavy black liner accented by a single, strange scar shape, and his skin was so pale Chase had thought he'd turn translucent in the sunlight. 

“A new guard?” Jack asked, raised a jet eyebrow and rolling his eyes with the pride only nobles could muster. “I can take care of myself, Mom.” 

“Don't argue, Jack.” Marcus said wearily. Jack looked to the floor, arms crossing tighter over his chest. 

“Fine,” he mumbled after a moment. 

“Jack, don't mutter. It's unbecoming.” Viria stepped forward to fuss with his hair and tug at the goggles on his head. Jack shied away from her touch. 

“ _Mom_ ,” 

“Really, Jack, you must do something with, this,” She gestured to his outfit. 

“What?” Jack looked down at himself. “There's nothing wrong with it.” 

He was right, Chase thought. There wasn't anything particularly bad about it, aside from the fact he was clad entirely in black and in a long trenchcoat completely inappropriate for the warm weather. Among all the light accents of the library and the royal colors of his parents, he looked as if he were preparing for a funeral. Chase wondered how much was fashion choice and how much was to piss off his parents. He shifted, bored once more. 

Viria must have heard his shuffling, and she smoothed her hands over her delicate white gloves. “Marcus and I have business matters to attend to, so we will leave you both to get acquainted.” She gave Jack a smile and Chase a tired look, while Marcus ignored them both all together. They closed the library doors behind them, and Chase looked at his new charge. 

Jack let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. “So, what mercenary camp did my parents drag you from?” 

“Prison.” 

“No kidding? What'd you do?” 

_No formalities with this one._ “Murder and assault.” 

“Of who?” 

“Cedric Mallese of the High Court.” 

Jack's jaw dropped, awe sparkling in his ruby eyes. “No way. So you're Chase Young?” 

Taken back, Chase raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” 

A look of pure joy and admiration lit up his charge's face. “Oh Gods, I never thought it was gonna be you! Xervi told me your name was Chase but I couldn't have ever hoped it was _the Chase Young_.” Jack closed the distance between them quicker than Chase would have expected. “I've always wanted to meet you! I've been following you for years! Well, not really, not in person at least. But I've been following the papers and the talk of you through the underground. You're- you're like my _idol_.” 

Chase was stunned for a moment, but flattery had always been his weakness, and he gave a crooked smile. “I see my reputation proceeds me.” 

Jack's starry-eyed grin broke for a moment, and he shuffled is feet. “Uh, bet my parents told you about me already, huh?” 

“I've heard some things, yes.” 

Jack visibly tensed, crossing his arms. “What'd they say this time?” 

“Your mother said you were a fool and a child.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Not the worst she's said. Anyway, I've got business in the city, so let's go.” Jack turned away, but he still looked troubled, shoulders hunched. “You're getting your armor and stuff tomorrow right? There's some spares in my armory.” 

“I don't need it.” 

Jack shrugged. “Sure.” He turned hurried past the ground foyer, blazing past servants who didn't stop to even acknowledge his presence. Chase frowned; they acted like Jack wasn't even there, walking around him as if he had the plague. 

He made a beeline for the black house in the corner, pulling a ring of keys from his pocket. The front door was studded with locks. Jack shielded the locks from view with his body, and Chase only heard three _clunks_ before the door opened and he was ushered inside. 

Jack shut the door. “I just have to grab some things, then we'll leave. I've got a secret way out so we can avoid my parents.” 

Chase nodded. The inside of Jack's sidehouse was nothing like the expensive grand house. The walls were painted a dull gray, hooks and shelves holding mismatched projects and scraps of projects. A bed was pushed against the wall, the blankets nested in a pile, and several empty glass bottles stacked neatly beside it. 

Jack discarded his coat and picked up a very bizarre and dangerous looking gun, oblong in shape with two metal prods sticking from the end. He stuck it through an empty loop on his belt. “They give you anything?” 

“Sorry?” 

“Any weapons.” 

“No.” 

“Figures.” Jack gestured to a steel cabinet. “You can pick something from there.” 

Chase shook his head. “No, thank you. I have my own at my old residence.” 

“Yeah, I meant to ask you about that.” Jack slung the coat around his shoulders. “We'll have to swing by there so you can get your stuff. My parents never do it themselves, but it's okay. We can sneak it in.” 

“They don't approve of my bringing my old things?” 

“Nah. Most of my guards get bought from mercenary camps, so they don't really have anything to bring in the first place.” He slipped motioned for Chase to follow. “I'm kinda surprised they bought you on, with you being, yanno, you.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Just that you're like, the most dangerous guy this place has ever seen. You're up there with Hannibal and Wuya.” 

Chase stiffened. “You know of them?” 

“Yeah. Met Wuya a couple of times, almost partnered up with her! But all she did was nag and leave me for some other baddies every five minutes. Eventually she stopped coming back, so I guess we're done.” Jack's voice was flat as he flipped more locks. The back door had five locks, and when Jack shut it behind them only two clicked over. 

_Paranoid,_ Chase thought. _Or smart, maybe both._ He followed Jack's quiet footsteps. There was only a couple feet of room between the sidehouse and the giant fence. Vines climbed up through the steel links, thick enough that Chase's couldn't see through to the other side. Jack unlocked a gate hidden in the mess of vines and pushed it open. The vines split perfectly, wound wildly enough to hide the gate. 

The fence backed up to a dainty, manicured orchard. 

“So, you know her?” Jack asked as he led the way around the fence. 

“Wuya? Yes, I do.” 

“Huh. She never mentioned you.” 

“We're not on the best of terms.” 

“Makes sense. She leave you for a mime too?” 

“She tried to kill me.” 

“Oh. Yikes.” 

Chase nodded. _A mime?_ He shook his head and held his tongue- Jack seemed to be getting stranger by the second. It was no wonder his family seemed to outcast him. Or why he needed a constant guard on his person. 

Jack strolled along beside him, content to kick a rock between his feet. “We should go by your place, first. I've gotta go talk to some men of questionable moral standing.” 

“Alright.” 

“And after that, if it all goes well, I've got some shops to stop at. If it goes bad, we have less shops to stop at, but either way I desperately need a couple wheels with a ¾ axel on them. Might as well pick up more A-cords, I can always use more of those. And some red lights, maybe some white just for a change, but maybe that's too much of a deviation away from my aesthetic.” 

If Jack talked like this all day, Chase might turn himself back into the High Court. He led the way to the stables at the front of the yard, opening the back door. 

“Bartrend? You here?” 

“Aye, ser. Be out in a moment.” 

Jack stepped back and rocked on his heels, hands in his pockets. Chase welcomed the silence, and watched the way the noon sun shone down through the trees. The sky was cloudy, rain along the mountains in the distance, but the sun was surrounded by a ring of clear blue. 

The door opened and a broad man, supposedly Bartrend, stepped in a fine suit stepped out with a quick bow. “Heading out already?” 

Jack nodded. “Got some more running around to do.” 

Bartrend looked at Chase. “You must be the new guard.” 

Chase nodded and gave a little bow. “Chase Young.” 

He only chuckled. “Oh, Ser Young, there is no need to bow for me. I'm only the driver. Now, where are we headed?” 

Jack looked at Chase. 

“Haven Avenue, north side.” 

“By the factory, Ser?” 

“Past that, the white building by the old sawmill.” 

“Very good, Ser. I'll hook up the horses and we'll be on our way.” 

Jack led the way around to one of the identical coaches lined alongside the stable. He slid inside, stretching his legs out and slouching. Chase could hear his mother berating him in his head, her words on the tip of his tongue. 

_Don't slouch, Chase. Stand tall, let them see your back._

“You live on Haven?” 

“I don't think it really counts as Haven at that point, but yes.” 

“There's nothing out there but abandoned factories.” 

“Precisely. Nobody would bother to track someone down in a land of nowhere.” 

“I feel like it'd be the first place they'd check.” Jack turned to him. “So, how did they catch you?” 

The coach jerked a little as the horses were hooked up. He tightened his grip on the plush seats. “I made a mistake.” 

“How?” 

Chase snapped a glare and Jack shrank a little. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Chase took a deep breath and waited for the coach to start walking before he spoke. 

“I lingered. Wanted to revel in the moment, I suppose. A servant walked in and caught me, screamed before I could get to her. The guards caught me as I left the grounds.” 

“Jeez.” Jack slumped again, the high collar of his shirt hiding his face from view. Chase studied him in the quiet. His ears were lined with rings and studs, all black in color. He was chewing on a slim metal bar and staring out the window, his eyes shaded with dark lashes. His coloring was entirely unique and strange. 

Viria had been pale, but she was nowhere near the alabaster shade her son sported, and neither her nor Marcus had eyes of such a brilliant hue. He could see a lot of Jack's mother in his cheekbones, the straight slant of his nose and his doe-like eyes. 

Jack sucked the bar back into his mouth before he turned his attention to Chase. “You know about electricity, right?” 

Chase furrowed his brow. “Of course.” 

“No, not the existence of it. The way it makes itself.” 

“Yes.” 

Jack seemed a little surprised, and straightened. “So you know how to create an electric current with a magnet, right?” 

“I'm familiar with the topic.” 

A grin spread across Jack's face. “Yes! That's great, because I really need help with something. I need someone to spin a crank for me while I set up the wires for the field. I can't do it one handed.” 

“And you want my help with this?” 

“Please?” 

Chase sighed. “I suppose.” 

Another wise grin. “Excellent! You know, I'm really glad you're not some brain dead murderer. You have no idea how _difficult_ it is trying to work with machines when all your help knows how to do is beat people.” 

“I'm surprised as well. You're fairly well-versed, for being a noble.” 

“I'm a genius.” Jack said with a shrug and a confident smile. “Machines are easy. It's people that are difficult.” 

“Maybe it's your outfit that makes it difficult.” 

Jack's jaw dropped. The metal bar he appeared to be toying with was stuck through his tongue. “It's not either! There's nothing wrong with my outfit!” His tone was high and defensive. 

“I didn't say there was. You usually only see those clad in all black for deaths.” 

“I'm just always prepared.” He stretched again, yawning, and stuck the metal bar out again. 

Chase curled his lip. “Would you stop- playing with that?” 

Jack raised an eyebrow. “What, the piercing?” 

“Yes, the _piercing_.” 

“I can't help it. It's there.” 

“Amazing deduction.” 

“No, you don't understand. It's just like clicking buttons. Something to fiddle with.” 

Chase only shook his head. “Busy hands?” 

“Something like that.” 

The silence only lasted a few moment before Jack was sitting up and rattling off lists and machinery and Gods know what else. Chase kept quiet, offering hums when appropriate, and was actually rather glad to hear someone talk who seemed to actually understand their topic. 

Outside the coach, the city bustled with activity, the tall bright buildings giving way to smaller, dimmer houses as they reached the outer rings of the city. Once the coach turned down Haven, the people had disappeared completely. Jack quieted down, watching out his window. 

“Hey, Hannibal lives out here?” 

Chase grit his teeth. “Does he.” 

“Well, not on this street. He lives way farther back, towards the hills.” 

“That so.” 

The bench dipped as Jack inched closer. “Are you okay?” 

“I'm fine.” Chase looked at him and Jack shrank away again. With a sigh, Chase suppressed his growing anger. “Hannibal and I have a rough past.” he said gently. Jack bounced back immediately, the fight-or-flight in his eyes giving way to curiosity. 

“What happened?” 

“I'd rather not discuss it. It's done.” 

Jack muttered a “fair enough” and went back to staring out the window. “I could do something with this, probably. Hey, Chase.” 

“Hmm.” 

Jack gave him a wicked grin. “Wanna rule the world with me?” 

Chase barked out a laugh. “You think you can rule the world?” 

“Sure. Why not? It can't be that hard, and besides, I've already got plans. World domination is within my reach.” 

Chase had to admit, he was intent on taking over at least a city before he was captured. But the world seemed a lot more to handle. Jack's eyes were shining, however, and he was already rattling off countries and something about machines. 

Chase looked back out the window, knocking on the roof when the coach began to pull up on the large, white house he called home. 

“We'll only be a minute.” He told Bartrend. The driver tipped his hat. 

“Take your time, Ser.” 

Jack followed him up the steps, giddy. “Oh wow, this is so cool! I never thought I'd be in Chase Young's house, holy shit.” 

Chase shot him a look and Jack shut his mouth, but he was clearly still excited. Chase sighed with relief when he opened the front door, greeted by the chorus of meows from his cats. 

“Hello, hi,” He cooed as he bent to pet them. Jack gasped. 

“You have _so many cats_!” 

The cats narrowed their eyes. A growl sparked in a few and Jack jumped away with a yelp. Chase shushed them and stroked their heads. 

“They're not used to strangers.” he said, rising and stepped over the clowder. 

“I really expected this to be all run-down and gross, but this is... really nice.” Jack said. 

“Don't touch anything.” Chase said as Jack poked at the ornaments on the wall. He heard Jack following him up the stairs. He pulled bags from under his bed and began to fold clothes. 

“It's gonna take a while to move all this stuff.” 

“I'm not moving it all.” The warrior stepped over more cats. “This house belonged to my family, and I don't intend to abandon it just because your mother is afraid to let you out of the mansion. I intend to balance my time between here and there.” 

“Oh, yeah I guess that can work. Hafta do super sneaky about it when we come.” 

“Alone, Jack.” 

Jack visibly deflated, caught off guard. “Oh. Right, right, of course.” 

Simone distracted him by butting her head up against his leg. He squeaked, crouching to pet her. 

“Don't spoil her.” 

“Too late.” 

“Jack.” 

Jack only talked softly to the cat, scratching her under her chin. Several of the others, jealous, crept up to blink big eyes at him for his attention. 

Chase let them, the more wary of the cats sticking close or hiding under the furniture. Chase packed his clothing, his weaponry and a few books. He would have to come back another time for the rest. 

“Let's go.” He said to the fur-covered teen on the floor. Several whining meows of protest rang as Jack stood. Chase poured out several bowls of food in the kitchen, making sure their water was full. The faucet in the sink dripped just enough to keep it full enough for the cats. Jack hovered, standing as if he felt out of place. Chase gently pushed the cats away from the door with his foot. 

Jack talked with Bartrend before he followed Chase into the coach. 

“I guess you're familiar with all the baddies in the Underground?” Jack asked as he got settled. 

“I know of most of them, yes. I take it that's where we're heading?” 

“Yup. Bartrend is gonna drop us off and then head home. He'll take your stuff up to your room when he gets back.” 

Chase snorted, and Jack raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“I'm starting to see why your mother wants a guard on you.” 

“Psssh. She doesn't know what I do. She just thinks something will happen to me, because I'm a noble.” Jack rolled his eyes. 

“She's not wrong.” 

“You know how many baddies are nobles, too? If only my parents knew.” Jack shook his head and tsked. “But most of them are lesser evils. I've got a date with Panda Bubba today.” He fiddled with the gold clasp around his boots. “See if I can't get that loan.” 

“Panda Bubba?” Chase narrowed his eyes. 

Jack grinned sheepishly. “Hey, machine parts aren't cheap.” 

Sighing, Chase ignored Jack's giggle and looked out the window. 

_Gods, what did I get into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop, a new chapter! i didn't wanna do everything i wanted with this fic, but i wanted to update SOMETHING, so this was it. it was severally lacking in the jack department  
> this is really unbeta'd, i just checked for spelling errors. i'll do more editing when i'm not tired as all hell
> 
> [if you liked this, maybe throw me a few bucks!](paypal.me/kotes) i always appreciate it!  
> [my tumblr!](spicercore.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if the ending seems? weird? it felt weird to me, idk  
> anyway, fear not, our favorite redheaded star child will appear early in chapter 2. he is the star of the show, after all  
> [if you liked this, maybe throw me a few bucks!](paypal.me/kotes) i always appreciate it!  
> [my tumblr!](spicercore.tumblr.com/)


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